


this song is about you (not you)

by adreamaloud, daneorange (adreamaloud)



Series: the band fic au [1]
Category: Skins (UK) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-18
Updated: 2009-09-18
Packaged: 2017-10-18 18:32:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreamaloud/pseuds/adreamaloud, https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreamaloud/pseuds/daneorange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the band fic au, part 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this song is about you (not you)

Distant drums bring the news of a kill tonight.- tricky, “hell around the corner”

Lily spots her five minutes before the start of the second set, seated at a table in the far corner, clutching what appears to be, in the distance, a pen; Lily looks over her shoulder, spots Meg idly twirling a drum stick, staring blankly at the crowd.

Lily asks, “You okay?”

Meg raises a brow, touches the back of her neck briefly; Lily notes the light sheen of sweat covering Meg’s arm. “Kat’s here,” Meg says instead, motioning with her head. Lily turns right back around, catches Kat’s eye; Kat, in turn, raises her half-empty beer in greeting.

Lily swallows. “She’s never watched us before, has she,” she asks, turning to Meg and finishing her beer in kind, setting the empty bottle on the window sill near where Meg’s sitting behind the drums. The place is quaint and homey; it used to be a real house, once upon a time, and the stage they are on is small; Lily estimates, it could have been the living room.

Meg shakes her head, smiles wanly. “No, I don’t think so.” And then, “She just got back here, you know.”

When she looks right back, Kat has her head down over something on the table. “Is that right?” asks Lily. Meg nods, twirls the drum stick in her hand a final time before starting the countdown to the beginning, tapping the sticks together above her head. Lily rolls her eyes, mouths, “Fine,” before facing the audience – it’s a packed night, considering it’s a weeknight, and there are people seated on the wooden floor and leaning against the walls with their beers in their hands.

The first few beats of Meg’s drums come in, heavily, along with the first few chords. Lily looks at Meg one last time before proceeding. Meg knits her eyebrows and mouths, Let’s go. (Lily always marvels at the person Meg becomes, three seconds before playing any song.)

When Lily speaks into the microphone, she’s holding Kat’s eye all the while.

*

They take a break after four songs; Meg asks for a bottle of water and Lily opts for another round of beer. Their bassist Jessie goes near the window, opens it, lights a cigarette. Lily bites her lip, feels Meg brush a hand against her arm.

“Hey,” Meg’s saying over the murmur of the crowd. “Kat would like to hang after. You game?”

Lily takes a swig before shrugging, “Sure.” Not like she can’t have a conversation with a member of the audience with whom she’s been holding a staring contest for the past half hour. “You should introduce us.”

“Haven’t I?” asks Meg, distracted as she nods at someone behind Lily over her shoulder. “I mean, the last time she was here…”

“Was, what, four years ago?”

Meg rolls her eyes, “Right, I’ll re-introduce you later,” she says, recapping her bottle of water and returning to her seat. The lights begin dimming again, and Meg slides her sticks back out from where she has temporarily stowed them away in her back pocket. Lily finishes what’s left of her beer, leaves the second bottle right beside the first one, by the window.

“Fucking rock star,” Lily says, winking, and Meg sticks her tongue out, squinting a little against the spotlight.

When Lily turns to face the audience again, it’s Kat she finds, almost immediately, looking like she’d been waiting for Lily all that while.

Lily addresses the crowd, in a low hum, asks how they’re doing; she wraps one hand around the microphone, slowly, the other around the stand. When she smiles, the room erupts in applause, but Lily sees how Kat’s hands are barely moving.

*

When the show ends, Meg hangs around, talks to a few kids who come up to her after, laughs loudly. Lily shakes her head, zipping her keyboard case closed. She’s crouched on the floor, and taking an idle sip from a glass every now and then, perched atop a table to the side.

“Does Meg usually take this long?” When Lily looks up, Kat has walked on over, taking off her glasses momentarily to check for smudges. Lily stands slowly, smiling; Kat returns the gesture, though a bit reluctant. “I mean, it’s just—”

Lily takes another sip, before saying, “Your sister’s quite the accommodating superstar,” laughing a little; something Meg presumably hears, because she turns her head to face her briefly before raising a brow, a grin on her face anyhow. To Kat, she gestures with her hand, what could be either five minutes or five hours. When Lily catches the look on Kat’s face, it’s a blend of amused and thoroughly surprised.

“I never would’ve thought,” Kat just says, though the way she’s looking at Meg shows a somewhat restrained fondness. When Kat shifts her eyes back at Lily, she knits her brows, slightly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t seem to remember having…”

Lily shrugs, extends a hand. “It’s all right,” she says, biting her lip unconsciously. “It’s Lily. I sing, mostly.”

“So I’ve seen tonight,” Kat just says, shaking the proffered hand in a firm grip once, twice. When Kat lets go, she shifts her eyes to the floor and with the height difference Lily sees how the color of her hair is so bright, the sort of red she associates with candy. Lily blinks away the urge to reach out and touch it.

Meg chooses that moment to come over, slinging a hand around Lily’s shoulder. “I don’t think you’ve met,” she greets, smiling as she gestures, “Lily, my sister; Kat, you know—”

“Yeah,” Kat says, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, smiling Lily’s way. “You wanna get out of here, or what?”

Lily tries to smile back; instead, the gestures comes off as if she’s smiling to herself, as she turns her eyes to the floor, shifting to her other leg. Somewhere, someone has turned off the air conditioning, and it’s getting warmer. Lily’s contemplating a response when Meg says, “Sure, we’ll catch up with you at the car, yeah?” before pulling Lily away by the arm, presumably to finish packing up the instruments for transport.

Later, when Lily’s slinging the keyboard bag over one shoulder, holding onto the cymbals in the other bag, Meg says, “It’s what she does, yeah?”

“What?”

“Oh, come on,” says Meg, coming up right behind her with the drums she can manage. “I’ve seen how she looks at you.”

Lily laughs, albeit a bit nervously. “Your sister’s into girls?”

“Not strictly, but,” Meg shrugs. “Oh, fuck it, she’s always doing this when she’s around.”

“Doing what?” By the door, Meg stops to lower her instruments, taking out a fag. Lily looks at her, tries an uncertain, “Your sister’s waiting in the car.”

Meg shakes her head, exhales smoke to the side. “Just a piece of advice,” she begins, “Just don’t, okay?”

Lily does not know what she means but nods anyway, fingers reaching out for a drag. As Lily exhales, she catches the sight of Kat leaning against the hood of the car, worrying a fag herself, looking the other way.

Lily finishes the cigarette herself a few wordless moments later. As she drops the butt, crushing it under foot, she just says, “I’m not even gay to begin with.”

Meg just gives her another warning look. “That’s never stopped her before.”

*

The ride to the nearby convenience store was quick and quiet with Meg on the wheel; Lily’s at the back with the instruments, while Kat has the passenger seat. Meg pulls up for a refill at the nearest gas station, getting out after catching Lily’s eyes meaningfully on the rearview mirror.

“She’s awfully quiet,” says Kat, after Meg’s gone. Lily arranges herself accordingly against the nearest drum, shrugs and says nothing. “I would’ve offered to drive, but my license has expired.”

“Where were you?” asks Lily, eyes fixed on Kat’s shoulder.

“Here and there,” she just says. “Leg work, studying, working.”

“Studying what? Working where?” The lights above them flicker slightly; Kat looks up, as if she can see through the car roof.

“Oh various,” she just says, looking back down, as if in embarrassment. She laughs a little, before, “At one time, I was into photography, at another into film altogether; there used to be a little of theatre, though right now, I’m with a magazine.”

Lily sits back, amused. “You mean journalism?”

“Hardly,” says Kat, before turning back around to face front, suddenly. In a bit, the driver's seat opens and in comes Meg.

“All set?” asks Meg, and they both only nod, saying nothing. As Meg turns on the ignition, the air in the car grows thick with a tension that Lily is not really used to, not with Meg around; she’s often open to light teasing, and this Meg who’s driving right now is quite rare.

After a while, Kat asks, “You all right, Meg?”

Meg pauses, shifts her eyes to meet Lily’s on the rearview mirror before, “Yeah.” And then, “I could really use caffeine right now.”

“There must be a coffee shop not too far,” says Kat, and Lily’s eyes fall to where Kat is touching Meg’s hand lightly, holding the gear shift.

Sure, Lily has known for quite a long while, how Meg has a twin, but she’s never had the actual thing, before this night. Certainly, she’s heard about Kat in off-hand conversations – in between sets and songs, during practice, while smoking on the hood of Meg’s car on occasion, mostly after gigs, when they’re far too pumped to sleep.

Meg talked about Kat a lot, actually -- how she’s never really home, how she’s jumping from one career prospect to the next, never quite getting into anything far enough to be committed, to be involved. “She’s too talented for one singular thing,” Lily remembers Meg having said once; remembers the look on Meg’s face as she said it – half-nostalgia, half-scorn.

That time, Lily just said, “As are you.” To which Meg just tilted her head a little, blushing lightly as she smiled. Lily’s thought about that a lot, how Meg is actually ridiculously attractive; only to have repeatedly shot down each similar thought, every time. It’s not right; it’s not healthy for the band, the music, everything. This much Lily knows. Besides, it’s Meg; who doesn’t have a crush on Meg at some point or another, anyway?

Lily doesn’t catch herself while at it; eventually, she’s staring far too long at where their hands are joined that she jumps slightly when Kat breaks through her thoughts with, “You okay back there, Lily?”

Blinking, she just says, “Yes,” clearing her throat, unbelievably dry. When she shifts her eyes onto the rear view mirror, Meg’s already looking at her with knit brows, as if asking, What is it?

Lily looks away, tries to wrestle with the feeling again, that thing that tugs at her, somewhere, whenever she’s exchanging looks with Meg on the rear view mirror; whenever she’s watching Meg drive.

*

Later, at the coffee shop, Lily sits across the both of them, each facing the opposite side, fags in hands. Meg likes her coffee strong after a performance; it’s pitch black where Lily can see it, whenever Meg puts the mug down. On the other hand, Kat’s coffee is a soft brown, perhaps from milk. Perhaps it’s milk with coffee, instead of the other way around.

With them sitting this way, Lily can openly see – things that are same, things that are different; what the passage of years and the distance in between have managed to do to each. Lily thinks about the things she likes better: the defined edges of Meg’s arms, the slightly darker color of her hair; Kat’s eyebrows, the shapes of her fingers. Lily has to look away at the last thought, sipping from her own coffee cup, slightly bitter from lack of sugar.

“You done examining?” Meg says, smiling – finally, something familiar, Lily thinks; something she can work with.

Lily rolls her eyes at that, lighting her own fag in kind. “Pardon me for having eyes,” she just says, smirking.

Meg’s still shaking her head when Kat leans in, the move full of intention. “So,” the word rolls out heavily, and Lily can’t help herself from staring at her lips, still forming that small O. “Tell me something about you.”

Lily laughs, and off the side, Meg coughs on purpose. “Is this an interview?” asks Lily.

Kat sits back, clicks her retractable pen open, then closed; taunting. “Depends,” she says, a smirk crossing her face in kind; briefly, Lily thinks she’s just seen Meg there, though not quite. “I’m on vacation, but then, I do like writing about something interesting.”

Meg says, “Fuck off, Kat,” softly, though the tone of warning is there, muffled as if hidden underneath several layers of blankets. “She’s not a fucking job.”

“Christ Meg, I know,” says Kat, lighting another fag. “Fucking protective aren’t we?”

Meg shakes her head, puts a look on that Lily’s learned to take as warning, all those years of being together. “Don’t start with me.”

Lily wonders what this is; if this is really how it is to have a twin, in the first place. If this is normal, at all. Lily clears her throat anyway, interrupting. “Meg,” she says, sliding a hand over Meg’s on the table. It’s something they don’t normally do, this – touch unnecessarily – and admittedly, Lily hasn’t thought the move out very well, that the moment she comes into contact with the skin at the back of Meg’s hand, the first thought she has is pulling away. “S’alright, yeah?” she says instead, swallowing, her hand still.

When Lily looks at Kat, she’s looking at where their hands are joined with a curious look on her face; she holds Lily’s eyes before looking away, at about the same time that Meg pulls her hand from under Lily’s in kind.

In her head, Lily thinks: _Fuck_.

*

That night, before parting, and while Meg is in the bathroom, Kat grabs Lily’s hand, scribbles something on the underside of Lily’s wrist, says, “You know what, fuck Meg.”

Lily spends the whole night cradling her hand, trying not to smudge the numbers there, trying to keep them away from Meg’s eyes.

Trying to explain to herself what the fuck is going on.

*

Kat is interesting, to use a horribly lacking word; Lily messages her immediately the morning after, trying for politeness. The conversation after is mostly harmless anyway, and for a while, Lily questions Meg’s outright skepticism. As it turns out, Lily does enjoy harmless conversation every now and then. Kat’s charm is just the sort that’s friendly, and on the surface, the conversation seems like it’s not really about to go anywhere, just floating around in a comfortable space.

But then, at some point, it does go somewhere. Kat calls Lily one morning, asks her out for lunch, finally, after a few days. When Lily asks about Meg, Kat says, “She’s fucking off somewhere; surely you must know she needs to get away every now and then?”

Of course, Lily doesn’t know; moments when she thinks she’s close enough to Meg to actually warrant being told, notwithstanding. She blinks away the disappointment, nods and says, “Right,” trying very hard to mean it.

Kat talks throughout the meal; true to Meg’s standard description, Kat is into everything all at once, and as she listens to Kat start and not finish sentence after sentence, talking about lomography and digital movies and theatre and random acts of juvenile delinquency, Lily thinks about how she hasn’t laughed this hard in quite a while; or at least, in company that is not Meg’s.

“So,” says Kat at the end of the meal, walking with Lily toward the door, hand comfortably perched on Lily’s back. “Have I differentiated myself from Meg clearly enough?”

Lily laughs, looks at Kat deliberately from head to toe and up again; of course, it’s all teasing, so Lily says, “Is this what it’s all about, then?”

Kat only says, “Maybe.” She’s smiling and shifting her eyes, and Lily feels this thing going again, like she isn’t sure what she’s doing there. They’re standing in the middle of the street; it’s a windy day and Kat is trying to keep her hair out of her eyes.

Lily tries looking again, waits until she sees someone apart from Meg altogether. When she reaches out to help Kat with her hair, Kat leans in, kissing her on the cheek briefly.

“We’re good, yeah?” Kat says, after.

Lily shrugs, shaking out the feeling of Kat’s lips on her skin, just says, “Of course.” She’s still staring at the hem of Kat’s skirt when she turns the corner and disappears.

*

Kat shows up for practice once; it’s a few days after Meg comes back, a few weeks later. Of course, the trip goes undiscussed, and when they see each other, Lily pretends not to have known anything; pretends she hasn’t been seeing Kat on the side all along, while she was gone.

Meg warns Kat, “We’ll be here all day,” and Kat looks up from where she is huddled with her netbook on one of the side couches, typing idly.

“I don’t mind,” she says. Lily looks away before Kat can even look at her.

Lily can’t decide if it helps that the microphone’s in front of the drums, that Meg can’t see her looking at Kat all along. All she knows is that Kat’s chewing at the edge of her pen as she stares, and it does things to Lily that Lily can’t even expect herself to be the least ready for.

Behind her, Meg seems to be hitting harder than usual; Lily tells herself, maybe it’s all that pent-up energy Meg must have racked up, somewhere. Lily thinks she’d like to ask about that, but maybe, some other day.

*

After practice, Lily follows Meg into the restroom, leaving Kat to her corner with the rest of the instruments.

“You all right?” asks Lily, opening the door slowly. Inside, she sees Meg, toweling the sweat off her arms. Seeing her, Meg makes a face, shudders a little, and Lily feels herself exhale, finally, allowing herself a small laugh.

“I missed this,” Meg just says, looking at the mirror as she fixes her hair. “Been a while since I last hit something.”

Lily thinks about the various junctures she can follow up on; instead, she tells herself, firmly, to focus. “Where have you been?” she asks, as lightly as can be afforded.

“Visiting friends,” is all Meg says, before grabbing her bag and disappearing into a cubicle.

Lily braces herself against the sink; looks at herself in the mirror as she wonders how one thing can shift from one place to another so completely different in such a small span of time. She’s about to get out when Meg emerges from the cubicle, a fresh tank top on. Lily looks away, but bites on her lip anyhow.

“Kat says you’ve been seeing quite a lot of each other,” says Meg.

Lily takes a moment to absorb that; that she feels terribly betrayed is what bothers her the most, since it says a lot about where she is: in a place where she thinks Kat owes her a little loyalty; where she thinks this thing with Kat, whatever it is, is actually something that should be under wraps, especially when Meg’s concerned.

“She talks about that, yeah?” Lily says, when she recovers.

“Have you slept together yet?” Meg asks, and it’s out so automatically, so casually that Lily’s hand nearly slips from where she’s holding onto the sink.

“What?”

Meg turns her head, and the look she gives Lily may or may not be what hurts the most. “I told you, it’s what she does.”

What she does. When Meg talks about her sister, it’s like nothing Lily’s ever seen, and she thinks about how to reconcile all these things in a way that isn’t so maddening. “What are you talking about, Meg?” And then, “Kat and I are friends.”

Meg shakes her head, picks her bag back up. “You know what? Whatever, do what you want.” She pushes past Lily on her way to the door, says, “Just, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” before shutting it right behind her.

Lily faces the sink, opens the faucet and splashes water onto her face, once, twice. _What the fuck is going on?_

*

Kat doesn’t show up in their next show; Lily keeps her eyes on a faraway wall, or on the floor, for the lack of an alternative she’s willing to settle for.

In between sets, Meg asks for vodka, and Lily does not even try to argue the wisdom in that, just hands her the glass when the waiter comes around with it.

“Kat’s away a few days,” Meg says, out of the blue, right after going through her second glass; she’s looking at her drum sticks and Lily finds herself staring at the contours of Meg’s arms under the shifting lights. “Did she tell you…”

Lily shrugs, says, “No.” Doesn’t say anything about Kat’s nightly phone calls; nothing about the way she calls her _babe,_ so fucking casually. Nothing about how this -- Meg’s implied disapproval, Lily’s seeming need for it in the first place -- all unsettles her.

“Right,” says Meg, turning away as she starts the beat without so much of a warning.

Lily flinches at the strength of it, this thud so close to her heart; she closes her eyes through the song after and the one after that, the image of Meg and Kat burning, blending behind her eyelids throughout.

*

At the end of it, Meg asks Lily out for a fag; under the street light, she can see how Meg’s flushed to the ears; how she couldn’t possibly be trusted to drive.

“Why the hell did you have vodka tonight, anyway,” asks Lily, lighting the fag before passing it on. “You knew you were driving.”

“I’ll come back for it in the morning, then,” says Meg, leaning against the wall. It’s a humid night out, and Lily can’t really help it, if of all things, she focuses on how Meg’s constantly swiping at the back of her sweaty neck with a bare hand. “God, it’s hot tonight,” she says even, and Lily slips another cigarette out; something to suck on, she thinks, moving her eyes off the skin of Meg’s nape.

“Could be rain,” Lily just says, looking up as she flicks the lighter open, hissing through the first drag. “Let me drive you home, then,” she offers, after.

When Meg looks at her, it’s with a totally unwarranted heavy gaze that feels like it’s half-undressing her; it makes Lily step back and brace herself against the opposite wall in kind. She thinks, Meg’s totally smashed, wonders how she kept the beat going back there, granted that she’s had a bit too much; wonders further how she must have looked, had Lily been sitting with the audience, that furiously intense, smashed mess she must have made of herself—

Meg says, “All right.” Lily blinks, swallows as she nods; she takes a shaky drag with one hand, balling her other fist tightly by her side, telling herself to breathe - _breathe_.

*

On the drive home, Lily pulls over twice, helps Meg out as she hurls by the side of the road, holding her hair back for her, smoothing her back.

Inside the car, Meg says, “Thanks, yeah?” smiling wearily.

Lily smiles softly. “Seen worse,” she just says, “Granted we’ve been together too long.” When Meg giggles – actually _fucking giggles_ – Lily is unable to keep herself from reaching out to touch Meg’s cheek lightly.

The gesture catches Lily herself completely off-guard; she comes to her senses the moment her hand comes in contact with Meg’s skin. She waits for Meg’s expected retreat, holds her breath even for it; but then, Meg does not move, just looks at her, still smiling.

“Why is it again,” Meg asks, now looking and sounding surprisingly sober, “That you’re not into girls?”

Lily laughs, nervous, tells herself now’s the best time to pull away, because there’s no telling where this is going; asks herself if _she’s_ had a bit too much. If it’s at all possible she’s begun imagining things. “I actually don’t know,” she says, shrugging as she pulls her hand back, shifting her eyes back to the road. “You ready?”

Lily’s still sparking the ignition when Meg says, just under the drone of the engine, slowly coming to life: “It’s a pity, that. You’re well fit, and I—” Meg trails off as the engine finally surges to a start. Lily looks her way, tries to come up with the right question, but then Meg is already looking out the passenger seat window, and Lily’s heart is beating so hard it’s practically knocking just under her chest, like a warning.

*

Meg’s sleeping when they get to her flat; Lily shakes her gently awake after parking the car. “We’re here,” she says softly, unbuckling her seatbelt before leaning in to remove Meg’s. “You okay?”

There’s a slight hiss as Meg stirs slowly awake, stretching, turning toward Lily and Lily tries not to look where the skin under the hem of Meg’s blouse is peeking slightly. Meg says, “Yeah,” opening her eyes slowly, her voice rough from sleep. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“Not too long,” says Lily, getting out of the car. “I’m going to need your keys, Meg,” she says, peeking into the driver’s side window, noticing how Meg hasn’t moved. Meg blinks, moves for her pockets before tossing the keys to Lily’s waiting hands.

Lily manages to open the door with little fuss, pulls Meg in by the hand, searching for the lights with the other. Meg’s flat is clean and simple, and curiously bereft of that rock star vibe people normally expect. Lily’s been over often, but never at this hour, when everything of Meg’s, from the couch to the tables to the picture frames, are all but silhouettes.

“You should stay,” Meg says from behind her, touching a lamp on a table for light; it glows warmly, covering its corner with a swath of yellow. When Lily turns her head, Meg has already ducked into her kitchen, coming out a few moments later while drinking straight from a huge bottle of water. “It’s late.”

Lily catches the clock – it’s only a bit after 3. “I’ve tried catching a cab at an even later hour,” she says. “You should rest.”

Meg shrugs, tossing the bottle of water to Lily; suddenly, Lily becomes acutely aware of how she is so _parched_ , unscrews the cap of it instantly before taking a huge sip, the rim of it tasting of Meg’s cigarette and cherry gloss.

“Stay a little,” says Meg, settling against the wall, arms crossed in front of her chest.

Lily takes her time, tries to focus on the feel of this, cold water, as if willing it to douse _something_. When she’s had everything, Lily looks at her, still leaning against the wall, head to the side. Meg’s got the adorably tired and hung-over look perfectly pinned down, and Lily’s feeling rather helpless at the face of it. “Meg.”

“What?” says Meg, smiling lazily. “Are you hungry?”

Lily shakes her head, mouths _No_ , before, “Thanks anyway.” For a good while they just stand there, on opposite ends of a narrow hallway in Meg’s house, saying nothing. Lily’s staring at Meg’s shoes, wonders how Meg has ever managed to do anything in them, much less play the drums, or drive safely across any distance. _Right_ , Lily tells herself, _Think about the physics of Meg’s clothing, rather than what’s under them._

The word hits her like a back-hand across the face - _under_ \- and she must have flinched visibly, because in a bit, Meg’s saying, “What’s wrong?”

Lily wants to shake her head, wants to say nothing – she does one and fails with the other. “What was that again,” she says, through lips that have begun feeling as if they are not her own, little by little. “That you were saying about me, liking girls?”

“I said I thought it was a pity,” says Meg, righting herself a couple of inches, straightening her back against where she’s leaning. “I said I thought you were well fit.”

Christ, Lily thinks, looking to the side; she’s now acutely aware of the drumming that’s starting right inside her chest, and yet through the dull pain, Lily manages a smile. “Jesus, Meg, what is this?”

“What is what?” asks Meg. When Lily shifts her eyes back, Meg is looking at her, and it hits Lily rather hard, how she actually sees Kat briefly there, in that half-pained look Meg gives her, and suddenly, Lily _understands_.

Lily doesn’t know what to expect after a thing like that, but she does it anyway – take all of three steps to get past the distance between them, kiss Meg against the wall. Meg takes a moment or two before giving in, and Lily braces her hands by Meg’s hips as she does, marvels at the feel of the body arching into hers; shuts her eyes tighter at the feeling of Meg’s fingertips scaling the side of her face, at the warmth of Meg’s hand at the back of her neck, at the force of the pull.

*

They’re still heaving when they part. Lily opens her eyes a split-second ahead of Meg’s, and Meg says, “We can’t do this.”

Lily breathes in, blinking. “It’s bad for the music, isn’t it?”

Meg takes a long time before answering, just looks at Lily wordlessly, her eyes shifting from Lily’s eyes to her mouth and back again.

When Meg opens her mouth, finally, she just says, “Yeah. And that, too.”

*

It’s almost sunrise when Lily gets home, checks her messages. They’re all from Kat, and in the latest one, Kat’s asking, “How was your show, babe?”

Lily sits on the edge of her bed, cradling her face in her hands, wondering how the fuck she got here, in the middle of this messy place of knots and semblances.

(When she falls into bed, moments later, she’s still fully clothed; all through what little sleep she has, she rolls in bed with Kat’s voice in her head and Meg’s skin everywhere else.)

*

It’s days later when she hears from either of them; it’s Kat who phones her one afternoon, asking her out to dinner. “Just got in. Are you free tonight?”

Lily looks at the clock; it’s a little after 4. “I’m free right now,” she says, wondering when her mouth started functioning ahead of her brain.

“Well,” Kat says; through the phone, Lily practically hears her grin. “You’ve missed me, haven’t you?”

Lily catches the calendar by the door: A week since she last saw Kat; three days since she’s kissed Meg. If there’s something to be said about spacing events, Lily thinks, she’s unlikely to heed anything, anyway. “Fair enough,” Lily just says. Admittedly, she does not know what she’s doing; what she’s doing this for. But then, the past few days have been all about not knowing better, anyway, so how about one more? These ill-advised things come by the dozen.

“Give me a couple of hours,” Kat begs, yawning. “Catch some sleep first.”

Lily just says, “Come over and sleep then.” Dictates her address from memory; asks, “Do you know how to find me, now?”

She stares at her phone throughout the wait, the same questions in her head; repeats them until the letters fall apart and she only feels farther away from the answers than when she first asked.

*

Kat walks into the door like she’s been inside Lily’s flat before; she has none of the visible qualms first-timers get upon entering a new place, eyes searching for interesting bits, hands scaling surfaces for familiar textures. Instead, Kat knows exactly where to look, knows where to put her hands, as she saunters in with a confidence that Lily finds unnerving the first few moments, and irresistible in the seconds following.

“Can I get you anything?” asks Lily, after recovering.

To which Kat just says, “Just a bed.” She’s smiling wearily, and Lily wonders how she and Meg can look so alike and yet be so unlike each other, all at the same time. Lily’s mouth is dry as she leads her into the bedroom, a hand extended, like a tour guide.

“It’s a big bed,” Kat says softly, upon entering. Lily hangs back by the door, watching as Kat tests her mattress. Lily holds her breath at the sight of her, the mid-afternoon sun upon her hair. The curtains are drawn and the windows are open.

Lily just says, “I like my space.” Kat laughs as she falls into it, slipping her shoes off her feet, toes curling after. Lily watches, tries not to think, _I like my space, now, the way it looks when it’s around you_ ; thinks of Meg, a little, that distinct softness of her lips caving in to the feeling—

“Why are you still standing there?” asks Kat, propping herself up on an elbow, still with that lazy smile.

Lily blinks, crosses her arms; she leans against the door until it shuts with a soft tap against the door frame. “Your sister thinks we’re fucking,” she says. It’s sudden and out of nowhere, practically, that even Kat is visibly taken aback, or at least, for a second or two. Lily shuts her eyes, tries to feel around her head for the slightest hint of alcohol—anything that should explain this carelessness.

“Is that right?” asks Kat. When Lily opens her eyes, Kat has taken a pillow and put it under her head; she’s curled on the bed and facing her. Kat looks so small; small in ways Lily has a hard time imagining Meg could be, as well.

“We’re not though,” says Lily. When she breathes in something catches somewhere and it hurts. “Told her as much.”

“You have to understand,” Kat begins, closing her eyes and settling more comfortably on the bed, pulling her knees closer to her chest. “Meg doesn’t trust me.”

“Why?”

“It’s what she does.”

Lily doesn’t know what to say to that; the force of this similarity is so strong that Lily has to hold onto something, just to keep her knees from giving way under the weight of too much. Stilling herself, Lily waits for Kat’s breathing to even out, the foremost sign of sleep, before moving over and settling on the far corner of the bed, a book in hand.

She stays on the same page for a long while.

*

When Kat stirs awake, she rolls over onto her stomach, a stray leg over Lily’s; Kat’s legs are smooth where they’re uncovered, and Lily tries to ignore the warmth that settles upon her, where they touch.

“Good morning,” Lily says, smiling as Kat opens her eyes. Outside, the street lights are coming on; it’s well past 7 in the evening. “You all right?”

“How long did I sleep?”

Lily almost touches her; threads her fingers instead into the sheets, reminds herself that just because they say the same things, doesn’t mean they’re the same. “A couple of hours,” says Lily, her hands to herself. “You still want to go out for dinner?” Kat burrows her face into Lily’s pillow in response, a stubborn grin on her lips. Lily rolls her eyes, laughs a little. “All right, we could also starve.”

“Five minutes more, please,” Kat says, clearing her throat. “God, your bed’s nice.”

Lily pauses for a moment; says, “Thanks,” in the most neutral tone she can muster, realizing there’s little that can be said to a compliment like that, without sounding the least improper. Lily wonders why she has to be careful; what she has to tiptoe around when there’s nobody else anyway. When there’s nobody else _there_.

The room is dark, save for the streetlamps outside, and in this light it’s rather easy to make mistakes; after a good while of weighing things in her head, Lily’s finally running through all of them, these possibilities – she’s allowing herself just one, tonight, and she’s choosing the best one.

“Or we could stay in, you know,” says Lily, finally, letting a hand stray over Kat’s hair, a fingertip tracing the space behind her ear. “I could call Chinese. Or something.”

Kat smiles, leaning into Lily’s now open hand against the side of her face; says, “That would be nice,” her eyes still closed.

Nice is such a trite word, Lily thinks, to assign to Kat altogether, but it is what she is – pleasant and light and so unlike Meg if put this way; and the way Kat’s right here, even -- like she fits, like she _belongs_ \-- is something Lily can’t bring herself to discount, altogether.

 _But Meg doesn’t trust her_ , she reminds herself while dialing the phone, reading off a menu pinned by a magnet against her refrigerator door.

For the first time in many weeks, she tries not to care.

*

That night, Kat does not go home; the room fills slowly with tension as Lily flips from channel to channel, setting up the telly by the bed after dinner.

Halfway through a random sitcom, Kat breaks the silence with, “You’re thinking about Meg, aren’t you?”

Lily tries a lie as she flips the channel, again. “No.” And then, “I’m thinking about you.” Which is not all a lie, altogether. “I don’t trust myself around you.”

“Do you, now,” says Kat, the bed dipping beneath her as she shifts to face Lily, a pillow between them. Lily thinks about the contents of her cupboard; tries to remember the last time she’s touched the bottle of vodka there.

“I don’t know,” Lily says, sighing. In a bit, she’s moving off the bed, and before she knows it, she’s back with the half-empty bottle of vodka, still on the shelf where she remembers having left it.

Off the look on Kat’s face, Lily goes ahead with a swig. “Vodka,” she says, handing the bottle over, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“You’re nervous,” Kat says, taking a sip herself, a smug smile on her lips, entirely accusatory.

“So what if I am.”

Kat asks, “Is it me?” shifting closer. The clock on the wall says it’s half past 10. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

Lily thinks about the word comfort – it only reminds her of this soft bed, these warm sheets. And now Kat’s in them, and something in Lily is slowly spiraling out of control. “What if you are?” she asks.

“I can leave,” Kat says, without blinking. “If you want.”

Oh, all these words setting off all these things, inside; Lily’s thinking about the mess she’s making now, among her internal organs, coloring them with her emotions’ several careless shades. Lily shakes her head but says nothing; on the telly, there are leopards chasing their prey.

“What do you want, Lily?”

“I don’t know.”

When they kiss, it’s Kat who leans in first, halfway, and Lily who closes the gap between, finishing. After, Lily says, expectedly: “What about Meg?”

To which Kat just replies, “Meg is not here.”

*

She is and she isn’t; under the little available light, Kat’s skin is warm and pink wherever Lily touches her, the veins underneath throbbing with blood; she is pale everywhere else.

Lily tries not to see Meg when she closes her eyes; when she can’t, she keeps them open and watches Kat instead.

(Reminds herself of who’s near. Who’s _here_.)

*

Kat likes it in the morning, after breakfast; she comes over with bagels and coffee in paper bags, and once, with a single sunflower. The gesture makes Lily blush, that time; that Kat manages these little things comes to mean so much more to Lily than she initially expected, and it throws her completely. Lily’s not used to gestures, grand or not, at all.

When they fall into each other that day, they start by the kitchen sink and never make it to bed.

The days following are variations of that, but there’s always some little new thing: at one point Kat brings in a camera; at another, her music, which is not too unlike Meg’s, but not entirely the same either. In the music Kat listens to, there’s less beating and more strumming, a little violin, some piano. It’s an entirely different experience, Lily thinks, sitting there and not having that rhythmic pounding against her chest that she’s grown used to, all these years.

Kat’s a sum of things, Lily thinks, one idle moment she’s staring at the smooth expanse of Kat’s back; it’s noon and they’re in bed, after. Kat’s a little of this and that and while Lily loves the way Kat’s put together like a pretty collage, when she remembers Meg, it’s her singular passion, the intensity of her focus when they’re out there and playing that blocks out everything else, like a wash of cool color, and Lily finds herself aching, somewhere.

They tell no one they’re fucking; Kat understands, and Lily can’t help herself. Still, she hasn’t heard from Meg, and somewhere along the way, Lily even manages to stop worrying too much; but then again, it doesn’t mean the ache has dulled, somewhat.

(Sometimes, Lily thinks this is what Meg should have warned her for, instead.)

*

When Meg calls for practice, it’s a couple of months later; she calls Lily up, asks to meet in the studio a few blocks from Meg’s place.

“Where have you been?” asks Lily immediately, taking care not to wake Kat, who is in bed with her. “You never called.”

Meg just says, “Sorry, it slipped my mind,” though it comes off entirely cold and detached. “I’ll meet you in half an hour,” she says, hanging up without so much of a goodbye.

Lily does not know what to make of it; Meg has her moods, but this is nothing like anything Lily’s ever seen in years. She contemplates waking Kat before ditching the thought altogether, slipping away from bed instead and quietly putting on her clothes, careful about the sounds of rustling denim and zippers being closed.

When she sees Meg, there’s an inexplicable constriction in her chest; it’s so tight that she has to cough, prompting Meg to ask if she’s okay. Lily says, “I’m fine,” rubbing over her chest, heavy with the weight of betrayal.

Lily slips, often; shakes her head every time she does. At the fifth repeat of the same song, Meg’s frustration gets the better of her and she ends up throwing her drumsticks to the floor. “Fuck it, Lily,” she says, exasperated. Lily flinches at the word, _fuck_. “Where are you today?”

“Sorry,” says Lily, rubbing her forehead with two fingers. “It’s been a while.”

“Jesus, Lily,” Meg says, getting up and picking up a bottle of water from the floor, by the drums. “Kat’s totally fucking you over well, isn’t she.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Meg looks at her over her bottle of water, accusingly. “You mean to say you haven’t been sleeping with her all this while?”

Lily lets out a small sound - half disappointment, half disgust - before walking out and pushing into the restroom. Examining her face on the mirror, she wills herself to calm down; no use getting riled up over this. Meg’s just had a bad few weeks, is all.

After a while, Meg comes in, a considerably softer look on her face. “I’m sorry,” she says, leaning back against the sink, her eyes on the ceiling. “That was horrible.”

Instinctively, Lily reaches out, wraps a hand around Meg’s nearer wrist. “It’s all right,” she says, rubbing the surface with her thumb, once, twice. “Do you feel better now?”

Meg shrugs. “Marginally.”

“Do you feel better every time you fuck off for a while?” Lily doesn’t even try to look at her as she attempts this question, so fraught with meaning.

“I wish it were still that simple,” Meg only says, sighing.

They’re quiet a while; Lily proceeds to splash water to her face, again and again, until the feelings wash over her; until the questions stop coming. Lily waits for the halt that doesn’t come, not really, and after a bit, Lily’s asking, “Why wouldn’t it be, this time?”

Meg breathes in, pausing a considerable while; she shifts so as to face the mirror and catch Lily’s eyes on it. “It’s because this time,” Meg begins, “I distrust myself more than I distrust anyone else.” Meg’s looking straight at her on the mirror as she says it, and Lily’s stomach does a painful flip-flop before plummeting, effectively gutting her into silence.

“You don’t trust yourself around me,” Lily says, a long while after.

“Kat likes you, you know,” says Meg, diverting. “She hasn’t stayed put this long in quite a while. It must be you.”

When Lily admits it, finally, with a soft, “I’m seeing her, Meg,” Lily looks away from where their eyes meet on the mirror, opening the faucet for distraction. “It’s not something we planned, it just—”

“It happens, hon,” says Meg, so light that it feels like she had just sliced a thin wound, just deep enough for blood. “It’s better this way.”

Something about Meg’s resignation snaps something in Lily, somewhat; when she shifts her eyes back to the mirror, Meg’s got her head bowed as she washes her hands. The faucet is open too long, Lily thinks; before she knows it, she’s already pulling at the hem of Meg’s tank top with hesitant fingers -- tugging at her, pulling her closer, and Lily’s chest feels so near to bursting at the face of such severe uncertainty.

The kiss has little of the first one’s softness, if at all; Lily actually steps back at the utter roughness of it, only to have Meg walking forward and reclaiming the temporary space between, nails digging into Lily’s waist, pushing her back against the tiled wall, cold. Lily can’t breathe, but then, she doesn’t really want to; doesn’t want to be away from Meg, from this inexplicable yet unavoidable thing that flays her on the inside in ways not even Kat’s best intentions can.

After, Meg just runs a thumb along Lily’s bottom lip, says, “That’s Kat’s gloss, innit?” before pushing herself off Lily and walking away.

*

That night, Lily writes – something about want and need and semblances and misplaced affections.

That night, Kat leans over, asks, “Is that song about me?”

When Lily says, “Yes,” she hopes Kat doesn’t see through whatever it is she really means.

*

On the night they’re set to launch the new song, Meg can’t stop twirling her drumstick, can’t stop tapping her foot. The place is packed as it is a Friday night.

Meg asks, “Is Kat here?”

“I don’t know,” says Lily, shrugging as she scans the crowd. “She said she’d come.”

In a booth off to the side, the sound engineers are signaling, _Ready when you are._ When Lily looks, she catches Meg seeing them as well. “It’s a full night,” Meg says, beginning a low starting beat that has the audience clapping along and hooting. “What do you say?”

Lily breathes in before saying, “Fuck it then, let’s go,” closing her eyes as Meg speeds the beat up, earnestly. Somewhere under the general noise, there’s the sound of chairs scraping against the floor as people get to their feet.

Lily runs through the song list in her head a final time with Meg’s solo in the background, and when she opens her eyes, she is ready.

*

During the break before the last song – the new song – Meg pauses to catch her breath, drinking from Lily’s beer. “I don’t see Kat,” Meg says. “Isn’t this new one for her?”

Lily smiles, takes the bottle from Meg’s hand, finishing it herself. “Don’t be daft,” Lily just says, wiping sweat off Meg’s brow with a thumb, before turning back around. Meg doesn’t say anything to that, just starts the beat accordingly when Lily announces it’s the last song, adding, “And also, this song is about you.” When Lily catches Meg’s eye, in the brief moment she looks over her shoulder, she knows the message is out and loud and clear.

Something shifts, and when Meg laughs, it makes Lily want to sing.#

**Author's Note:**

> In keeping with the theme, ill-advised but irresistible. Skins rpf, meg/lily/kat, the bandfic AU. ~8,000 words. R


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